


Juvie Days

by Ladyawesome45321



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Depression, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, References to Depression, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2019-10-30 05:16:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 14,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17822603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladyawesome45321/pseuds/Ladyawesome45321
Summary: Mick never meant to kill his parents, but that's exactly what happened when he started that fire. Life afterwards felt even worse at times. He was thrown into Juvie, shoved into stupid foster homes, forced into counseling like he was some insane lunatic, and worst of all there was an annoying punk he couldn't get rid of.





	1. Family Ties pt 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really excited to start this story. This is my first story here on Ao3 (but I've been writing for about seven years or so on wattpad) so hopefully this goes alright...Each of my chapters are about 5K words. So, to make things a little easier to digest each chapter will be broken down in to at most five parts, each being about 1K words. Enjoy!

Sometimes Dick Rory woke up in the middle of the night screaming. Violent images of death ceased his mind's eye, entrapping him, forcing him to relive the worst moments of his life. Memories of Vietnam flooded his sight, making him lose touch with the present. Occasionally, he would lash out, throwing fists at his wife Allison. He had never meant to hurt her, but his illusions morphed her into one of the enemies from Nam. War did that to a man.

As if that wasn't bad enough, he had a small son, aged six, to worry about. Dick had always wanted a child, and he had been ecstatic when little Micky was born.

However, since the illusions had started, he was worried he would hurt his son terribly. He was already wracked with guilt whenever he hurt his wife, despite her protests that it was okay, (he couldn't help it, after all) but he simply could not live with himself if he were to hurt his boy.

It was eleven thirty at night, when Dick's latest night terror struck. His cries rang throughout the house, echoing off the walls. The screams woke Mick, causing him to begin crying as well. Dick thrashed around on the bed, his arms and legs kicking and swinging wildly; Allison fell out of the bed and onto the floor, eyes wide with surprise.

By this time in her life Allison Rory was used to being woken by her husband's violent nightmares. She knew exactly how to handle them, how to calm Dick down again. Quickly, Allison went to the bed side table and frantically began setting up the record player. She kept a record hidden under the bed's mattress for occasions such as these. Captain Tennille.

It was one of Allison's favorite songs, and it would normally ease Dick back into the present. She placed the record on the record player, starting the album immediately. Once the words began softly playing, Dick's thrashing slowly eased up.

Soon, he was resting peacefully again.

Allison sighed heavily, relieved. Mick could still be heard crying from down the hall. Allison gave her husband one last wistful look, rubbing his arm sympathetically, before turning towards the door and leaving the room. She walked down the hall, heading into Mick's room, where the young boy would be sitting in his bed, sniffling and scared.

"There, there, Micky," Allison said softly, wrapping her arms around her boy. "Everything is alright now. Daddy just had another nightmare. It's alright…" Mick sniffled, burying his head in his mother's shoulder. He didn't say anything. Instead, he simply closed his eyes and drifted back to sleep, as Allison rocked him. She stayed awake for another hour, holding her son.

It was a hard matter to handle, taking care of both Mick and Dick. Often, she felt as though she had to choose between the two. After all, she couldn't console the both at the same time.

When Dick was suffering from one of his illusions, he needed to be tended to at once. If she didn't calm him down quick enough, things could get very ugly very fast. But little Mick needed his mother. He was only a child, meaning he needed a lot of attention. There was school work Allison had to help him with. She had to make sure he had plenty of nice clothes, that he bathed. She had to see to it that he was eating properly and that he was getting plenty of sleep.

Both situations took up a lot of time and left Allison exhausted. She didn't have any time to herself. Things were never quiet around the Rory house anymore, and it made her long for the old days, before Nam. Sometimes, she wished that Dick had never been shipped out there. He hadn't been the same since. He was moody and sad all the time, and he never payed her any attention. And of course, there were the night terrors. (They didn't always happen at night, though.

Sometimes they happened during the day, when they were out with their friends or trying to have a nice evening.) Before, Dick had been the most kind and romantic man Allison had ever met. He'd bring her flowers, listen to her problems.

He would make her food and play music for her. She really missed the old Dick, but she knew that he had had to go. It was his duty as an American Soldier. Still, it would have been nice to have a husband who was sane, to help her take care of their son, to love her and protect the family.

Allison sighed, resting her head back against the wall. She looked down at her son, smiling lightly. She loved him and Dick more than anything in the world. Hell, they were her world.

They were everything to her, and she would do anything to see that they were happy. But the damn war stole the happiness away. It had taken a damn good man and turned him into an uncontrollable beast.

Dick wasn't the only man this had happened to. They called it post-Vietnam syndrome. Nearly all the men who had served in the war had it, but Dick had been discharged five years early because of it. He wouldn't talk to Allison about it, though, so she wasn't certain about the details. She did know, however, that it must have been far worse than most of the others. (Or else he wouldn't have been discharged, would he?)

Allison sighed heavily, leaning her head back against the wall. Her eyes stung as though someone had dumped acid in them. All her energy had left her body, and all she wanted to do was sleep for a thousand years.. Her arms ached, her feet were sore, and her head hurt like hell. She hadn't gotten a good night's sleep in weeks. Dick's night terrors had been become worse and worse lately, and it seemed there was nothing she could do to make them better.

Carefully, she lifted Mick off her and back into the bed, before standing and tip toeing back into the hall. Before she closed the door behind her, Allison glanced back at him over her shoulder. She smiled lightly to herself. He looked so peaceful, his breathing slow and rhythmic. One would never have guessed that he had just been startled awake, sobbing and terrified. In fact, she could almost believe that he had never even woken up in the first place. Almost.

Allison closed her son's door, then proceeded down the hall back to her own room. She stood at the center of the room for a moment, watching her husband sleep. It was strange really, to see how he could change in just a matter of seconds. And sad.

Yes, that was exactly how she would describe this life. Sad. It was a hurricane, with ten-foot waves washing in, filling their home from floor to ceiling. Allison could feel her head going under. She could hardly breathe. Everything had become so…suffocating.

She didn't recognize her husband anymore. Some days he was just as she had always known him to be, but others (which, unfortunately, happened more often than the former) he was someone else. Someone broken beyond repair. There was nothing she could do to help put him back together, and she couldn't express how much it pained her. All she wanted was for him to be okay again, but she feared that may never happen.

With another sigh, Allison slipped into bed. With one last glance at Dick, making sure he was, indeed, fine, she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep, the soft tunes of Captain Tennille playing from the record player on the bedside table.


	2. Family Ties pt 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope y'all like this part of the first chapter. It's really fun to write these intense scenes; I look forward to hearing your thoughts and feedback!

The first time Dick hurt Mick, Allison threw some random clothes in a suitcase, got Mick, and left. She hadn't planned on coming back. She really hadn't been...but she was weak.

It happened in the garden. The Rorys had been working on the farm all day, tending to the animals, taking care of the crops, cleaning up the house, etc, etc. They were just finishing up their evening chores, when the incident happened.

Mick was prancing around happily, chasing their Border Collie puppy Todd. (They had three more puppies, another Border Collie called Marley, and two Belgian Shepherds called Bella and Big Joe. Todd, was just the most hyperactive of the bunch, so Mick preferred to play with him.)

Allison was crouched down in the garden, picking the weeds from the dirt. Dick was nearby, feeding the chickens, having just finished milking the cows for the night. The goats and pigs were already crated in, so once he got the chickens into their pen all that would be left were the dogs. Then, the Rorys could sit down and have a nice relaxing supper. Allison smiled to herself, as she yanked one final weed from the ground and wiped the sweat from her forehead.

Her dark hair was tied back under a bandana, and her chestnut eyes kept watering like a water fall. Allison just knew she must've looked like a zombie. She was very much looking forward to resting after such a long day of work, especially considering she hadn't gotten much sleep the previous night.

Dick had suffered through three night terrors, screaming every time he closed his eyes. Allison hadn't gotten him to rest peacefully until three in the morning. Meanwhile, Mick had been fussy all morning, and he refused to let her sleep in an hour or two. He never did. Though, that wasn't really his fault, she supposed. Allison had raised him to be an early riser and hard worker. She smiled to herself, as she stood up with the weeds. Surely, she thought, her son was going to make some lucky gal very happy some day.

Allison was just turning to toss the weeds in the trash bag she'd brought out with her, when she heard the shout. Her head snapped in the direction of her husband, where the noise had come from. Mick was clinging onto to Dick's waist for dear life, as his father swatted at him violently. It looked as though the boy had jumped on him, trying to surprise him, and inadvertently caused him to slip into an illusion.

Mick was giggling, clearly not yet understanding the gravity of the situation. He seemed to think it was all just some game they were playing. But Dick was screeching hideously, thrashing around like a rabid animal. Allison dropped the weeds in her hands, rushing to retrieve her son, her heart pounding in her chest. She wasn't sure what exactly her husband was seeing in his head, but she knew it would quickly get ugly if she didn't move fast enough.

She didn't move fast enough. Dick threw Mick off his back in one violent motion, sending him flying through the air and crashing into the chicken pen, splitting the wood in two. Mick cried out in pain, sobbing.

"Dick!" Allison scolded, as she reached her boy, scooping his small form up in her arms. Dick blinked, slowly coming to. For a moment he looked around, taking his bearings in, until he finally came face to face with his wife's angry glare. Briefly, Dick's eyes flickered to Mick's sobbing form in Allison's arms, and his face fell.

Mick wasn't too badly harmed, but Allison could already tell there would be bruising later. She held her son as he cried, trying to calm him. Dick spluttered, awkwardly, taking a step forward, hand out stretched. "Allison, I -"

"Save it," Allison snapped. She stood up, still holding Mick in her arms, shushing him softly as she tried to sooth him. Dick frowned, staring at her with those big doe eyes of his. Allison could tell he felt guilty about what he'd done, and she knew he couldn't hell it. She knew he couldn't tell the difference between reality and illusion when he was stuck in one of his nightmares... But she couldn't forgive him for this. Mick was their son.

Allison sighed, as Mick finally stopped crying. "Look, I'm sorry," she said softly. "I know you can't control this thing. I know the war...but I don't think I can do this anymore..."

"Allison -" Dick tried again. She wasn't listening, though; she had already turned away, walking back towards the house, taking Mick with her. Dick was calling after her, but she didn't turn around to see if he was following. Allison knew if she did she'd change her mind. One look in his eyes, and she'd melt just like she always did... But she couldn't. Not now. Not ever again. She had to take care of Mick first and foremost and that meant getting him the hell away from here.

When she reached the house, Allison marched straight upstairs and started digging through the closet for their old suitcases. (They hadn't used them in years, unable to take any vacations since their was so much work to do on the farm.) "Mick, go to your room and pack a few clothes, okay?" Allison said, as she handed her son a small bag and placed him on the floor.

The young child tilted his head, not understanding what was happening. Bless his heart, he was so young. So innocent. Allison wished he could always stay that way...

She sighed, running her hand through her hair. How could she possibly explain this to him? "Because Mommy asked you to," she told him.

"Why?" Mick asked, looking up at her with big, wonderful, wide eyes.

"Mick, please. Just do as I ask," Allsion said. Something in her voice must have gotten the message across to the young boy, because he trotted off a moment later. As soon as he was gone, Allison slid to the floor, letting the tears fall freely from her eyes. She didn't know how she was going to do this alone. How could she raise a six year old by herself? Where would they even go? She didn't have anyone to turn to. No family... No friends...

Allison shook her head. It didn't matter. She'd figure it out. She had to. For her baby boy. With a surge of strength, Allison got to her feet. She grabbed a few clothes, showing them into her suitcase, before going into the bathroom to pack her hair brush and Mick's tooth brush. Then, she went to the boy's room to hurry him along and stuff some of his clothes into the suitcase, knowing Mick would only pack his toys into the backpack she'd given him.

Once the necessities were hurriedly packed, Allison got the keys from the banana rack, took Mick's hand, and ushered him out to the car. Her body felt numb, as if someone else were controlling her movements, like her mind had become completely detached from her body. It didn't feel real...

She didn't answer Mick when he started asking questions. She didn't stop when Dick came around the back of the house, begging her to stay. Allison just backed down the drive way, speeding down the pothole filled road until she reached the outskirts of the city. And then...and then she just kept driving, because she didn't have anywhere else to go. No one to turn to...

Allison only stopped driving when the sun went down and her eyes began dropping lazily. After such a long day... She just wanted to sleep forever...

Glancing in the rearview mirror to see Mick snoozing in the backseat, Allison sighed heavily, feeling the tears swell up in her eyes once more. The road started to blur with street signs, so she pulled over on the shoulder, turning the car off to save gas. And it was there that she broke down, trying her best to keep her sobs quiet lest she wake her son.


	3. Family Ties pt 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally going to be the last part of the first chapter, but I decided that I would drag it out for at least two more parts. So...enjoy!

Allison jumped, startled awake by a light tapping on her window. Groggily, she tore her eyes open to be met by an officer. He was a young black man, probably new to the force, with a head full of dark hair and a well kept, stiff beard on his face. The man looked nothing short of professional, his uniform neatly pressed and freshly ironed; Allison could see his badge - the name West printed ever so elegantly on the shiny metal - hanging tightly upon his left breast. Looking in the rearview mirror, she spotted his police car parked delicately behind her.

With a quick glance back at her son, Allison was relieved to see that Mickey was still fast asleep. She reached forward, rolling the window down so that she could speak with Officer West.

"Ma'am, I'm afraid you can't park here," Officer West told her immediately once the glass parted from the rim.

Allison nodded slowly, still tired from the less than adequate sleep she had gotten, dozing in the car. "Uh, right. Yes... Sorry, Officer. We were just on our way."

"We?" He frowned, before turning his head slightly to the right and spotting Mickey. His eyes widened, as he took note of the suitcase and bag that sat in the back with the boy, his mouth parting just a bit; and Allison suddenly felt very self conscious. He was judging her, thinking she was a terrible mother for allowing her son to sleep in this cold, dank vehicle. She just knew it.

Except the expression Officer West was wearing wasn't one of judgment. It was one of concern. (And maybe a bit of suspicion.) The officer quirked one of his brows upward, as he glanced back at Allison. "Everything alright, Ma'am?"

Allison found herself nodding, despite the contrary being the truth. "Yes. Fine," she mumbled.

The officer nodded, sending another worried glance at Mickey. Allison wasn't sure why that look made her so uneasy. It wasn't as if he was considering anything suggestive, was it? After a moment, she brushed the thought away, deciding it must have been fear. Not of the officer, of course, but of the fact that he could so easily take her son away from her. Send him to Child Services. Allison wasn't sure she could handle losing her boy. She would rather die.

"There's a shelter not too far from here, you know," Officer West offered carefully. "If you and your son need somewhere to stay...They've got free meals and showers. It's just around the corner and down the block from CC Jitters. Can't miss it." His expression went beyond that of just polite concern. It was a look of full on terror, as if he was genuinely afraid of what might happen to the boy if she didn't find him somewhere nicer to stay; the look was so authentic, Allison found herself belatedly wondering if he, too, was a parent.

She just smiled kindly, trying not to break down in tears once more. This was actually the best news she had received in ages. "I'll look in to it. Thank you, Officer."

He replied with a stiff nod, as she rolled her window back up and started her car. Officer West only retreated to his own vehicle when Allison started driving away; she could tell that he was reluctant to leave the poor, innocent child with the less than competent mother.

The shelter, just like Officer West had said, was just around the corner. Allison drove past the little coffee shop, idly day dreaming about saving up her pennies to buy a drink from there someday. (She'd lived the better half of her life on a farm. Trips to the city didn't happen often, so she had never really gotten the chance to drink any of those fancy coffee drinks from the coffee shop.)

It was getting close to noon, when she and Mickey arrived at the shelter. A nice lady (Allison couldn't really remember her name. Was it Kate?) greeted them immediately. She took their bags and escorted them inside, giving them some hot food and cold drinks. (By this time Mickey was awake and extremely fussy, but the promise of food made sure that he behaved himself.)

The place wasn't very big, and there were about a dozen other people there, but it was enough to accommodate them for a few nights. The walls and floors of the sleeping quarters were impossibly messy - clothes thrown all over the place, a grimy substance smeared everywhere (Allison was too scared to find out what it was) - but at least the mattresses looked comfortable enough.

The dining hall was fairly large, long tables filling up every inch of the space; the food tables were at the end, paper plates and plastic forks stacked for people who wanted something to eat. Kate explained that breakfast would be closing soon, so Allison decided to get Mickey food while she still had the chance.

She grabbed two paper plates, filling them with bacon, eggs, and even a few pancakes for Mick. Then, she sat herself and her son down at one of the tables, while Kate brought them each a bottle of water. For the most part, they ate their meal in silence, but after about a minute of fiddling with the paper plate, Mick shocked Allison with a question she wasn't quite prepared to answer. "Did I do something wrong, Mama?"

Allison blanched. She stared at him for a moment, trying to wrap her mind around the thought. "No! No, baby...Why would you think that?" She wrapped her arm around him, hugging him as tightly as she could manage without hurting him.

The boy shrugged, pouting just a bit. "Well, I was playing with Papa. And then you were mad, and we left. So, I must have done something bad..."

Allison shook her head vigorously. She leaned back so that she could look him in the eyes and make sure she got her message across. "No, Mickey. Honey. Don't ever think that, okay? You didn't do anything wrong, you hear me? We didn't leave because of you."

The boy frowned, tilting his head slightly to the side. "So, why did we leave, then?"

Allison felt the tears welling up in her eyes once more. He was just too young to comprehend anything that was happening to them right now. "Because. We..." She trailed off, honestly lost for words. How could she explain anything to him, when she hardly understood the situation herself? Her mind was still reeling from the night before, lagging, failing to process any of it.

So, instead Allison decided to turn the child's attention to something else. "I heard Kate say there was a park somewhere near by. What do you say we go check it out?"

The boy's face lit up instantly. He seemed to forget all about the dire question he'd just asked his mother, trading it in for thoughts of play and imagination. "Can we?!"

Allison smiled, glad to see that grin of his. She just wished she could keep it on his face forever...

"Of course. Once we finish up here. Then, we can go."

Mick hurriedly scarfed down the rest of his food. (Allison had to scold him to slow down more than once.) She didn't eat much herself. Her apatite had vacated her, after everything that had happened, but she kept smiling anyway, not wanting her son to see anything was wrong. He already deemed this awful situation his fault; she didn't want him worrying any more than he had to. Just let him be a child, she thought. Just for a little while longer.

I was gonna have this be the last part of chapter one, but I think I'll drag it out just a little bit longer. (One or two more parts at least.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...I'm curious. What did y'all think of Joe's little cameo? I was really nervous as to how that would be perceived... If you guys like it, I have plenty more easter eggs planned where that came from. If not, then I'll just make this one the first and last... They're not very impactful to the plot anyways. Just fun little cameos...


	4. Family Ties pt 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the long wait! I've been super busy with school and helping my mom move. There just hasn't been enough time to write a whole lot. But better late than never right? I'll try to have the next update up sooner if I can. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

As soon as they arrived at the park, Mick took off at a sprint, heading straight for the jungle gym. Allison laughed at his enthusiasm, glad that he seemed to have forgotten about their troubles. At least for now.   
“Don’t get too far ahead, Mickey,” she called after him. “Stay where I can see you!” 

He didn’t respond, but she knew he’d heard her. She watched for a minute, turning, briefly, to gather her purse. When she turned back, she was met with another woman sitting on the park bench, watching over her own son. Allison smiled politely, as she took a seat next to her, barely sparing her a second glance. She let out a heavy sigh, running her hand through her hair. How did things get to be such a mess? 

“Excuse me.” The woman spoke so softly that Allison almost missed it. “I don’t mean to intrude…but are you alright? You seem a bit overwhelmed…” 

“I’m fine,” Allison told her without so much as sparing a glance her way. She set her purse down by her feet, smoothing down her pants even though there was nothing on them. “Just tired. You know how exhausting little boys can be.” Allison shrugged it off like it was no big deal. This woman didn’t need her dumping all her problems on her, after all. Besides, it wasn’t exactly something Allison fancied talking about with a stranger either. 

“I understand,” the woman nodded. “It’s just…it seemed like more than just motherhood stresses…” 

“I said I’m fine!” Allison snapped. Why wouldn’t this woman just drop it already? Allison's life was none of her business! This woman was not her therapist or even her friend, so who was she to just start asking personal questions? Was everyone in the city a nosey bitch? 

But Allison immediately grew guilty for having such thoughts, as she took notice of the way the woman flinched as her voice escalated. It was then that Allison finally looked over at the woman, taking in her appearance. She was skinny and frail looking, her bones visible through the skin on her arms and legs. Her hair was a rat’s nest, thinning so badly that Allison could see a few bald spots forming. Wistful brown eyes stared back at her, watering to the brim, like maybe she might start crying. Pale pink lips quivered ever so slightly. The poor thing looked so pathetic, it made Allison's heart ache. 

“I’m sorry,” Allison apologized. “I shouldn’t have snapped. That was rude.”

The woman shook her head so violently that Allison thought she’d shake it right off her neck. “N-no! No! It was my fault. I shouldn’t have been bothering you. Honestly, I’m much too nosey. That's why my husband always has to correct me when we go places.” She let out a small, nervous laugh, and Allison was stunned – to say the least – because she recognized it all too well.

It was the laugh she used whenever Dick got too violent. Whenever he was thrown into one of his flashbacks and shoved her a bit too hard down the stairs. That was the laugh she used when she wanted to pretend everything was alright, even though she knew it wasn’t. When she wanted everyone else to think it was okay. 

“It’s fine. Really,” Allison insisted, awkwardly pushing a lose strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s just…a lot’s been going on lately. And it’s really personal…” 

The woman nodded. “Sometimes it helps to talk about it.”

Allison smiled lightly. “I’m just not comfortable discussing personal issues with…” She trailed off, afraid that she’d offend the woman somehow. 

“Strangers?” The woman looked back at her with a faint smile of her own. “It’s alright. I understand.” She paused for a moment, and Allison thought their conversation was over. But then she went on. “But sometimes it’s better if you can vent to someone you’ll never see again. No attachments. No awkward moments later, you know?” 

The woman patted her hands against her knees awkwardly, grinning sheepishly, like she really wanted to help but was afraid Allison would yell at her again. Allison hesitated for a moment, watching as the two boys ran past, charging towards the slide just a few feet away. She sighed; she waited until the two boys had each gone down the slide a total of three times, looking back at the woman who’s eyes looked so determined and friendly and fragile, and she relented. 

“It’s just…my husband,” Allison explain, “Richard. He’s got that Post Vietnam Syndrome, you know? And there was an accident last night. Long story short, our boy got hurt, and I had to leave, but now I'm not so sure what to do. We’ve got no where else to go. All of my friends and family are across county, and Dick doesn’t have any.” She was surprised to hear how sturdy her voice sounded, even if she could feel the tears swelling up to the brim of her eyes. It was a wonder she wasn’t breaking down like a little baby. 

The woman nodded slowly, as she took in that information. It was pretty heavy business, after all, and it deserved the most proper attention one could give. So, she paused a moment, a full minute Allison guessed, as the boys ran by once more, running for the swings. They took turns pushing each other back and forth on the smallest swings for a count of seven, before the woman spoke up again. “You're worried he’s going to hurt him again.” Allison nodded in confirmation. “Did he apologize?” the woman asked. 

Allison shrugged, scrunching her face horribly. “I didn’t really give him the chance to…” 

“Well, go back in a few weeks. See if he apologizes. Then, go from there,” the woman advised. “After all, everyone deserves a second chance, right?” She grinned sheepishly again, as if she were waiting for Allison to tell her whether or not she was correct, as if she could only ever make shy and awkward gestures. “Lewis has given me enough second chances anyway. I mess everything up so often… But he’s good to me. Keeps me in line. Oh, Lewis is my husband by the way.” 

Allison merely shrugged, not too sure with herself. She wasn’t positive that this woman's advice was the best thing in the world, but it was the only advice she had been offered thus far. So, she didn’t really have a choice but to accept it, did she? She smiled hesitantly, glancing over at the boys who had now taken to playing with the rocks, letting out a small, breathy laugh. “What did you say your name was again?” 

The woman hit herself on the forehead, (a bit too hard, Allison thought, considering the loud smacking sound she heard when she did it) chuckling nervously. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I’m such an idiot. I forgot to tell you my name. Ugh, Lewis is right. I really would be completely lost without him helping me…” She shook her head, laughing like it was all some big joke, like Allison couldn’t read between lines. “Anyway, my name is Linda.” She gave her a tight lipped smile, a forced gesture if Allison had ever seen one, and held her hand out. 

Allison smiled back as nicely as she could manage, deciding it would be best if she didn’t call the woman, Linda, out on her husband’s behavior. It would just make it worse, after all. “Allison,” she said, kindly shaking her hand. 

“Nice to meet you,” Linda said, as they shook hands. When they withdrew from each other's touch, she caught a glimpse of her watch and suddenly turned rather frantic. “Oh, dear! Is that the time? Lewis will be home from work any minute!” She gave Allison another one of those awkward, sheepish grins. “I'm sorry, Ally. I hate to just vent and run, but I have to go. Lewis likes dinner to be ready when he gets home. He’s a police officer, you see. So, it’s really hard work, and he has to relax when he gets home. So, I have to go now.” 

Allison didn’t comment on the way her ramblings sounded much harsher than she probably meant them to be. Or the fact that she had called her Ally, when she preferred her full name. (Allison didn’t want to upset her and send her off muttering any more apologies than she was already spewing.) She didn’t comment on the fact that her husband sounded like quite the prick (considering her own marital issues she couldn’t really judge). And she definitely didn’t comment on the fact that it felt as though Linda were asking for her permission to leave. 

“It's alright,” Allison promised. “Just go do what you have to do. Maybe we’ll meet again someday.” 

Linda let out a laugh, and for the first time through out their entire interaction Allison thought it sounded pretty genuine. “Wouldn't that be splendid? Who knows. Maybe our boys might end up in the same school one day.” She turned, calling to her son. “Leo! Time to go, honey!” 

“Leo,” Allison mused, as Linda's son waved goodbye to Mick and ran over. “That’s a lovely name.” 

“Oh, thank you,” Linda smiled, helping her son put his backpack on. “Lewis picked it out.” 

Allison nodded, watching them walk to their car for a moment, before working up the nerve to ask something. “Linda?” 

The other woman looked back over from her vehicle, peering over her doorframe as she buckled Leo into his car seat. She made a soft hum in response. 

Allison pursed her lips nervously. “Uh, Lewis,” she started awkwardly. “Your husband. Does he…I mean, has he ever hurt Leo, too?” 

Linda stood up a bit too quickly, looking stunned by the question and maybe even a little afraid. Allison expected her to get offended, maybe shout or even storm off in a huff. Instead, she just flashed another one of those shy smiles. “No.” And from the tightness in her voice, Allison could tell it was a lie. “I’ll see you around.” 

She got in her car and drove away, leaving Allison sitting on the park bench, her heart pounding in her chest, Mick playing quietly by himself in the sandbox, oblivious to all the hideous things going on around him.


	5. Family Ties pt 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally finished with the first chapter! This is the last part. It took a little while to get here, but it's finally here! Yay! So sorry about the inconsistent updates. I mean to update every week or so, but I've been preoccupied with roleplaying on discord servers and working on my story Sandstorm. But...better late than never! Enjoy!

Allison and Mick stayed at the shelter for a few weeks, just like Linda had suggested. After that, Allison thought it best that she follow the rest of Linda’s advice and return to the farm to at least hear what Dick had to say for himself. (She couldn’t very well just let her son stay in some crummy shelter could she? He needed a proper home.) 

Unfortunately, they did not return to pleasantry. As soon as Allison walked through the front door, she could tell something wasn’t quite right. Dick wasn’t anywhere insight, and he didn’t appear when she called for him. It was as if he too had abandoned the little farm house. 

Allison sent Mick up to his room to unpack, checking all the rooms down stairs for her husband before making her way upstairs, looking in the rooms up there as well. The last room she entered was her and Dick's bedroom. The bed was freshly made, and the dressers were nice and tidy, just as she had left them. Like he hadn’t been in there since she and Mick had left. Allison could see that the safe on the far wall where Dick kept his gun had been opened… And it was empty. 

Allison gasped at the realization, rushing to the window, peering out urgently. It only took a moment for her to spot what she was looking for – Dick. He hadn’t gone far. Just a little past the pig gates that were a few feet from the house. He was standing with his back to the house, not noticing his wife and son’s return, gun in his hand. Allison couldn’t see the look on his face, but she knew it had to be pretty listless if he was doing what she thought he was. 

With a shout, Allison turned, racing down the stairs two at a time and rushing out the door, not even bothering to close it behind her as she flung it open. She ran as fast as her legs would carry her across the farm's lawn, hoping she could reach her husband before he did something stupid. Allison raised her hand as she ran, as if that would somehow help her reach him faster. She called out to him, yelling as loud as she could. 

Thankfully, Dick turned at the sound of her calls, a look of utter surprise on his features. He paused, watching as she finally closed the distance between them; she leaned forward, hands on her knees, exhausted from the sprint and foreboding pounding her heart was partaking in. “Dick,” she managed, after a moment. “Don’t do it. Don’t…don’t k-kill yourself…” The words nearly got stuck in her throat, struggling to get out. She felt tears swelling up, a lump forming, her mouth filling with the uncomfortable taste of cotton. Her hands were shaking, but she wasn’t sure if that was because the adrenaline or the unease. 

Dick looked back at her, and it hurt how broken he looked. His eyes, once filled with such livelihood and child like wonder, was now nothing more than an empty, dark abyss, an endless pit that she could easily fall into, becoming trapped until the end of time. Though maybe she’d already gotten trapped in the abyss years ago. Perhaps, Dick was also stuck in that bottomless pit. And maybe that’s why he was giving up, now. Allison had left with their son. There was nothing to get him through the darkness. 

Guilt seeped in, as her adrenaline slowly began dying down. Allison looked down at her feet, unable to look him in the eyes anymore. Not with that expression. That broken, awful expression… 

“Why shouldn’t I?” Dick asked hollowly. “I hurt…” He shook his head, looking down at the gun that still lay in his hands. “You shouldn’t have come back… You were right to leave. I –I can’t…”

Allison hushed him, reaching up to touch his face, finally meeting his eyes again. “Don't talk like that. You don’t have control over it. Just…just apologize.” 

Dick shook his head, stepping away from her slowly. He wouldn’t meet her eyes. “I can’t…I can’t do it again. Can’t live with…with everything I’ve done. It’s only going to get worse, Allison. It won’t get better. Ever.” 

“Don’t say that! You don’t know that! Just –” She took a step forward, reaching out to him again, but he took another step back, making her frown. 

“I do know that, Allison!” he said a bit louder than necessary. “I can feel it! If you come back now, if you bring him back… How much longer until one of you end up dead because of me? What if…what if I –“

“Everyone deserves a second chance, don’t they?” Allison asked, remembering Linda's words from the park. Cautiously, she took another step towards him, gently taking the gun from him. He slowly looked up at her, with those broken eyes, a frown deep on his lips. 

“And how many second chances can a person get before it’s enough? Before it’s gone too far?” he asked, eyeing the gun now in Allison’s hands. She sighed, making sure the gun's safety was on before she placed it in her pocket. Allison took his hands in hers, smiling lightly up at him. 

He was still so handsome, even if he was war torn, broken. There were bags under his eyes, like he hadn’t slept since Allison had left. (And judging from the clean bed she suspected he really hadn’t.) His hair was an utter mess, and he smelled a bit, clearly indicating that he hadn’t bothered much with hygiene either. But still. She remembered how rich and full of life those gorgeous brown eyes had once been. How they looked upon her with such love and care. She remembered how well groomed that hair used to be. And that was just enough to make her forget about the incident that had taken place a few weeks ago. 

“It won’t go to far,” she promised him. “Just apologize. We’ll go from there.”

He nodded slowly, hesitating for a moment longer, like he wasn’t sure he really agreed with her. (And Allison wondered how she could have possibly thought he was abusive before. That clearly wasn’t the case, if he felt bad about it, right?) “I’m sorry…” he said quietly. 

She gave him a curt nod in response, letting out a heavy breath. “Okay…” she said. “…And for what it’s worth, I am sorry I left. I should have stayed to work it out. I won’t do it again. Promise.” 

He just gave his own nod in response, letting her lead him back to the farm house. Allison's heart had finally stopped pounding in her chest, as the intense moment settled down. She wasn’t sure where they’d go from here, but she knew they’d figure it out. They’d have to. For Mick’s sake. He needed them both, and they owed it to him to make this work.


	6. Finding Solace pt 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeyy! I'm not sure how long it's been since I've updated. It feels like forever... But you know better late than never right? Same old excuses... Haha I feel like I should make that my catch phrase at this point. Anyways, enjoy!

The years went by, and as Dick had predicted, things only escalated. His condition worsened nearly every day it seemed like. He’d jump at the smallest of sounds, brandishing whatever was closet to him as a weapon: the gun, a knife from the kitchen, even the cigarettes he had started smoking or the beer bottles he always kept on hand. 

Dick’s appearance showed just how far gone he really was. His face was disgruntled, misshapen, like a block of clay someone had smashed to hell. Dick’s eyes slowly began to loose the life they had once held in them. There wasn’t a hint of the old gleam Allison used to see, no sign of love or passion at all. Dick wouldn’t bathe unless Allison physically forced him up to the wash room, which was very difficult for a woman with such a small frame. So, half the time he sat in his own filth. He didn’t change clothes, he didn’t eat, and he didn’t even come up to bed with her a night. It pained her to see, but she knew this wasn’t her husband. He was long gone.

On half way decent days, he didn’t move at all. He just sat in his old, battered chair at the center of the living (if one could call any of this living) room, staring off into space with a beer and a cigarette and muttered nonsense. Sometimes the nonsense was war related other times it was utterly random garbage, like a talking gorilla controlling people with its mind. (Allison worried that her husband had truly lost his mind.)

On the really bad days, (which happened more often than not) when the terrifying flash backs and craziness became too overwhelming, Dick would lash out, violently attacking his family. Allison always tried to calm him with Captain and Tennille, but as the years dragged on and on the musical numbers effect seemed to be less and less. It would seem that nothing could save him now, and Allison grew weary of trying.

Then, there was Mick. By the time he was thirteen, he knew how to take a proper hit, and he was no longer a stranger to the agony of broken bones. Dick usually went after him when his terrors took over. Allison wasn’t sure why. Perhaps his mind made him believe his son was an enemy solider or perhaps it was Mick’s rebellious tendencies. The boy’s attitude had become quite bitter, and he was very stubborn even on a good day. If he didn’t want to do something, like eat what was set out for dinner or stop playing with the rats that had started gathering in the barn, he wouldn’t. It was very frustrating and exhausting.

Then, there was the fact that he had taken to stealing his father’s lighter from time to time. Allison wasn’t sure what he found so fascinating about it, (he was practically obsessed with staring into the flames it produced) but when the neighbors started complaining that Mick was setting their hay barrels on fire she knew it would be a problem. 

She reckoned he did it for attention. Allison's hands were always tied, trying to take care of Dick. She didn’t really have time to spend with her son anymore, and he, perhaps, was starving for some motherly love. But still. Setting fires was not the proper way to get attention. So, Allison hid the lighter as best she could to keep it from Mick… But it was no use. He always found it. And when he couldn’t he found something else, a match usually. (Allison wasn’t sure where he found those, though.)

Allison had taken to home schooling him, because no school in the city would have him anymore. Partly because he kept bringing matches to school, partly because he wouldn’t sit still and wouldn’t listen to the teachers. (The principal had even exclaimed, “This boy is worse than a toddler!”) Mick didn’t seem to care. He was completely apathetic about everything, as though acting out was some sort of game to him, and it made Allison want to pull her hair out.

Still, he was her son, and she loved him. She did her best to remain calm, balancing Dick's rage and Mick's stubbornness. But it was all too much. She just needed a break. An escape…

She knew there was a job opening at a coffee shop in the city. (She’d read about it in the paper some time ago.) Perhaps, that would do. It wouldn’t be long, just a few hours a day to take her mind off her husband’s decaying brain and her son’s incessant needs. Besides, they didn’t have much time to tend to the farm anymore, and they were losing money. They’d have to pay their bills somehow, wouldn’t they?

So, Allison set up an interview for that Friday. Throughout the week, she scurried around the house, making sure everything was nice and proper. Floors were swept, kitchen was cleaned, beds were made. She even did some gardening outside. By the time the end of the week rolled around, she was thoroughly excited for the interview. Though, as she was leaving the house there was a small problem...

Allison moved towards the door, only to stop when she felt a tug on her arm. She glanced back to see her son, clutching her arm as though his life depended on it. 

"Do you have to go?" he asked. 

"Mick, we talked about this," she said quietly. “You're thirteen now. You don’t need your mother around the house twenty-four seven. You can take care of yourself.”

"But I don't understand why I can't go too!” Mick whined childishly. “Why do I have to stay alone with..." He trailed off. He didn't want to say anything about his dad, worried it might offend her somehow. For whatever reason she'd always been extremely protective of him, even after he'd started hitting Mick. But she knew, from the nervous glance he sent behind him, to where Dick sat limply in his chair, what he meant. 

"He's your father," she said, trying to ignore the heavy weight that settled upon her heart. She knew what Dick did and here she was acting as though it didn’t matter…She just wanted this job. She needed this job. That didn’t mean her son’s troubles didn’t matter. 

Mick didn't say anything. He just looked back at her, eyes pleading. His hands were trembling, as he held on to her in a desperate attempt to make her stay. Allison felt that heavy weight on her heart begin crushing her lungs. How could she leave her son when he was like this? But, of course, she couldn't take him into the city with her. 

She needed to go immediately to the office for the interview, and -- as much as she loved Mick -- she worried he might make her look bad. His obsession with fire often caused people to misjudge their family, making them think they were freaks. And she really needed this job. She couldn't afford people thinking ill of her. For a second she almost caved, almost canceled the interview. But then she reminded herself that the job would be good for all of them in the long run. 

"It can't be that bad to spend a little time alone with your father, can it?" she tried again. Though, it was really just a lame attempt at easing her own conscience. She knew Dick sometimes did horrible things to their son when his mind was stuck in the past. And that, in all honestly, was probably the reason Mick was so afraid of being home alone with him. “If you really don’t want to stay in the house, why don’t you go out and do some work around the farm, hm?” Allison gently wrenched his hands off her. “Now, I’ve got to go or I’ll be late.” 

She turned again, and she was surprised when Mick didn’t protest anymore. Allison sighed in relief, as she climbed into the car and backed down the drive.


	7. Finding Solace pt 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeeaah...I know. This is, like, a million years late... Hopefully it was worth the wait though! And hopefully you don't hate me for taking so long to update or for saying this: updates may get super slow because I want to try to focus on my original content again, since my last week of classes is coming up. Please don't hate me for all that! *nervous laughter*

After his mother left Mick didn’t stay in the house, but he didn’t go to work on the farm like she had suggested either. It was too hot for manual labor, and – if he were being completely honest – Mick didn’t really care enough to do it. Besides, the circus had rolled into town earlier that week, and he wanted to get a good look at the fire jugglers. 

It sounded stupid, but he couldn’t help it. Watching them was his guilty pleasure. The infatuation had started when he was a kid. One of his only good memories with his parents was at the circus; they’d brought him there for his tenth birthday, and Mick had instantly fallen in love with the fire jugglers. The flames were absolutely stunning, the way the jugglers twirled them around expertly without getting a single singe on their bodies. The scene had been utterly captivating, and Mick had just wanted to stay there, watching the jugglers play with fire forever. Hell, he wanted to play with fire. 

Ever since that night Mick had been completely obsessed with the flames. He wanted nothing more than to be near fire, just to watch it. Maybe even touch it… Except the latter was out for obvious reasons, which was kind of annoying. How could something so beautiful be so deadly? It was mind blowing, really. 

So, whenever the circus rolled into town, Mick did his best to sneak away and get a look at the jugglers. It didn’t happen as often as he would have liked, because his mom was pretty obsessed with making him work on the farm and his dad…Well, he didn’t like to think about him much. But occasionally, like that night, he managed to get away.

He never stayed long, and he didn’t waste time with any of the other acts of the circus. (They were all pretty dumb anyway.) He just snuck into the jugglers' tent and snuck out. Just a quick peak so no one ever caught on to him. Just a few moments where didn’t have to worry about everything his mom wanted him to do or…everything he didn’t like to think about with his dad. Nothing but big, beautiful, orange flames…

The circus wasn’t too far from the Rory farm, just a few blocks down the road. Which meant it only took Mick maybe two minutes to walk there. He was glad for that. Mick really hated putting in effort for things. It was exhausting. 

Once he had gotten there, Mick quickly found the jugglers' tent. (They pretty much always set up in the same place.) He slipped inside as quietly as he could manage and hid behind a crate full of the jugglers' supplies. (Costumes, sticks, matches, etc.) There were about eight jugglers – four women and men each – gathered at the center of the room, practicing their act for the upcoming performances and show times. 

It didn’t take Mick long to get utterly lost in the flames. The jugglers twirled their fiery sticks around, spinning them so fast that Mick almost couldn’t see any movement at all. His eyes trailed along with the flames’ routines, gazing wistfully as the jugglers tossed the sticks back and forth between themselves, taking on two, three, or even four or five of them at a time. He would have watched them all night without so much as blinking had he not been interrupted. 

But naturally, he was ripped out of his daze by a daunting, unexpected voice from behind him. “Hey, kid, you’re not supposed to be here.” 

Mick jumped and whirled around, heart pounding in his chest. He blinked, his head a bit fuzzy after staring at the fire for – how long had it been? A minute? Two? 

There was a guy in front of him, arms folded over his chest like he thought he was the boss of everyone around him, even though he couldn’t have been more than sixteen. Raven hair, as dark as the shadows that covered the ground at night, was being pushed back by the bandana he wore on his forehead. Dark, piercing brown eyes scanned Mick over like a machine. His pants rode a bit low, leaving his waistline to be very noticeable. The guy’s biceps were bulging too, Mick noticed. 

“…Who are you calling kid,” Mick said, trying to act as though he hadn’t been caught off guard. Where had this guy even come from? “You’re only, like, three years older than me.” 

The guy lowered his arms, and Mick felt as though he’d been hit in the gut. (And he knew very well what that felt like.) When the other kid moved he’d given Mick a clear view of his abdomen – since he wasn’t wearing a shirt for whatever reason – which was totally ripped. He looked like a teenage version of Chuck Norris if he were a little shorter and a lot skinnier. 

The kid stared at him with those dagger like eyes of his, and Mick couldn’t help looking down at the ground – belatedly he noticed he wasn’t wearing shoes either. “Who are you?” the guy asked. “How did you get in here?” 

“Through the door, duh,” Mick said. But as soon as he looked up and locked eyes with the other guy, his stomach turned into a pretzel. He wasn’t sure what it was. Something about those eyes and…and the fact that he wasn’t wearing a shirt…

The guy rolled his eyes, not looking very amused with the younger boy. “Okay, smart ass,” he hissed. Then, he settled those sharp eyes on him, and Mick was fairly certain his lungs were collapsing. “You didn’t answer my first question. Who are you?” 

For a moment, Mick had trouble thinking of something snarky to say. The other boy was…distracting to say the least. Mick shook his head, trying to focus. “Why should I tell you?” 

“I don’t have time for this,” the guy grumbled under his breath. Mick got the idea he was starting to get on his nerves. (It was funny, sort of, the way Mick seemed to have a talent for pissing people off.) “Look, you can stay for now. Just don’t touch anything, alright?” 

The guy stalked past him, getting Mick’s heart to jump start like a track racer. He wasn’t sure why he did it, but, in a hurry, he said, “Mick.” 

The word got the other boy to stop in his tracks. He glanced back without turning around completely, an eyebrow perched upwards in a way that completely ruined Mick’s gut. “My name,” Mick told him, and he hated that he stuttered a bit. “It's Mick…”

Slowly, a smirk formed on the other boy’s lips, and Mick’s gut decided to give up and off itself. (He may have even stumbled a bit, much to his own dismay.) “Daniel,” the guy said. Then, he walked off, heading towards the other fire jugglers at the center of the room, leaving Mick to lean against the crate. The younger boy let out a heavy breath of air. What the hell?


	8. Finding Solace pt 3

Allison arrived at the interview just in time. She thought it went well, except her stomach kept twisting in knots and she fumbled over her words a few times in the beginning, when she was especially nervous. At least she’d done the research on the company and had been, for the most part, prepared for all the questions they’d asked her. Allison went home soon after they’d finished, the interviewer claiming they’d call her if she’d gotten the job. 

They called a few days later. She’d gotten the job, and she would start the very next Monday. Allison was so ecstatic she set her alarm for three hours early just to make sure she got there on time. The first day went smoothly enough. It had just been orientation: learning the proper way to brew a coffee and wipe down the tables once a costumer had left. Pretty easy. 

Allison worked there for three weeks from five in the morning to three in the afternoon, always doing her best to keep up with the other baristas who were much younger than her and had much better stamina. The job didn’t pay much, but it had quickly been her solace. It was a place she could run to when her home life had become too much; and Allison quickly found herself taking all the over time she could get her hands on, constantly longing for the chaos of the coffee shop to distract her. 

And for three whole weeks it was nothing but pure bliss. Then, the guilt settled in, and things began to change. Her work pace became slower, she began coming into work later and later; and when her manager – Greg – called her into his office to ask about it, she didn’t really have an answer for him. 

All Allison could say was the truth. “I’ve been using work as a means of escape, but I’m exhausted from being with my family and working here. They’re a bit of a chore themselves, you see. And I…” She hesitated for a moment, not meeting her manager's eyes. “I feel burdened by my husband and son. Does that makes me a bad person?” 

Greg blanched, clearly not expecting that sort of response. He scratched the top of his head, scrunching up his face in a way that was just as ugly as this situation. “Listen, Allison. If you’re having problems at home, then maybe you should see a professional or something. This is a coffee shop, not a counselors' office.” 

Allison frowned and shook her head. “Oh, no. We don’t have money for that sort of thing. Besides, no one would help my husband, he was in Nam.” 

“Ah.” Greg stiffened at the mention of Nam. It had been a sore subject for many people, even after so many years. The soldiers hadn’t been welcomed back kindly. They’d even been spat on, kicked, and bruised up. That was the main reason no one would treat Dick. Allison watched worriedly, as Greg shifted uncomfortably, until he finally collected his thoughts. “Well, then, perhaps find a bartender. They are much more affordable. But, Allison, if you can’t keep up with the work I’m going to have to let you go.” 

That sentence was like a knife to the heart, but she didn’t fight it. How could she? Allison just nodded slowly. “I understand…” She gently picked herself up from the chair and left the coffee shop. 

Allison didn’t go home, though. She wasn’t about to tell Mick and Dick that she had lost the job after only a mere three weeks. No, instead she’d go in search of a bar – or more specifically the tender of the bar – as Greg had suggested. It didn’t take long to find one. The city was full of them. 

Allison entered the nearest bar, walking right up to the tender who was in the midst of making a drink for another costumer. She sat in one of the stools, until the bar tender turned her attention to her. Allison smiled awkwardly, as she flashed her a big grin. The woman’s name tag read: Nadia. She didn’t look like any woman Allison had ever seen before, and for a brief moment, she wondered if coming here had been a mistake. 

Her hair was short, dyed pink, buzzed on the sides, bangs flopping in her face. There were tattoos littering her skin, and the woman had muscles that could have rivaled with even Dick. She wore a white tank and leather jacket, fingerless gloves over her hands. Nadia seemed much more masculine than anything. She reminded Allison of the kind of woman who might like to sleep with other women, and that thought made her shudder. What could someone like that possibly know to help her? It just wasn’t right. 

But then Allison caught a glimpse of her eyes. They were the only womanly thing about her body. Soft green with a hint of deep, ocean blue. Kind. Caring. Motherly even. Just how a woman should have been. Allison decided to give her a chance, despite how…unnatural the rest of the woman was. She’d just focus on the eyes, on the proper part of her. 

Nadia leaned against the counter, tossing a rag over her shoulder as she did so. Allison instinctively leaned away. (She didn’t want whatever was wrong with her to rub off on her.) Nadia didn’t seem to notice. (Or maybe it was just that she didn’t care.) “What can I get you, Miss?” Even her voice was wrong. Raspy, manly. 

Allison shook her head, doing her best to ignore it. She didn’t have the brain capacity to worry about all that right now. Once she had solved her own issues then she could worry about fixing everyone else. “Balkan.” 

Nadia snorted. She glanced Allison up and down, and she covered herself up without even realizing she’d done it. “A little twig like you is gonna drink some hard core shit like that? Really?” 

Allison huffed. Maybe she was just exhausted from having such a bad day, but the other woman’s words had annoyed her. “You don’t think I can handle my booze?” 

Nadia made a face, giving her a one armed shrug. “All I’m saying is that girl’s like you usually prefer something a little more, uh, fruity.”

“Girls like me?” Allison raised an eyebrow. Her arms were still folded over her chest, and she was growing more and more irritated by the second. Who did this woman think she was? 

Apparently the bar tender recognized her rudeness, and she back tracked. “Listen, no offense, lady. But this is the kind of stuff people get alcohol poisoning and die from, alright? Now, as the tender of this bar it’s my job to make sure you don’t drink more than you can take. ‘Cause see, costumers dying in my bar ain’t too good for business.” 

“I can take it,” Allison insisted indignantly. She really just needed a heavy drink… 

Nadia shrugged again. “Fine,” she said. “But don’t go dying in my bar, you hear my, lady? Like I said –” 

Allison waved her concern away. “Bad for business. Yeah, yeah, I know. Just line ‘em up already, will you?” 

And that’s how Allison continued to spend her days. The bar had quickly become her new solace, her new safe haven, her home away from home. She left the farm at five in the morning, as she had done at the coffee shop, hung around the city until the bar opened up; and then she’d spend the rest of the night partying and drinking her stress away. Allison told Dick and Mick that she’d picked up a bunch of over time, working late at the coffee shop. (They didn’t really need to know the truth, did they?) 

Still, the more she went out, the heavier the guilt weighed on her. So she’d drink a little more…and a little more…and a little more, until she could not longer feel anything. Not even her the ground beneath her feet. Then, she’d sleep for hours upon hours, until it was time to get up and start all over again.


	9. Finding Solace pt 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to make this part a bit longer, but it consisted of hurting my little fire baby. And I couldn't bring myself to do it. (Plus we're riding on three weeks here, I think, so I really need to update this.) 
> 
> Hope y'all enjoy!

The circus stayed in town for a few weeks, so Mick made it a point to go every day when the fire jugglers were preforming their act. He never had to worry about paying, because he'd always sneak in with one of the larger parties, making it seem as if he were with them. Then, when the act was over he'd duck out before anyone realized he wasn't suppose to be there. He didn't have any interest in seeing any of the other acts, anyway. Besides, Daniel would always meet him outside the jugglers' tent, and Mick had grown accustomed to hanging out with him. 

It was just stupid stuff, like how many scoops of ice cream they could put on one cone before the whole thing fell over or how many feet they could walk after filling their shoes with tiny pebbles. They never actually spoke more than three words to each other unless they were trying to out do each other with their cunning remarks, but Mick didn't really care. He didn't have much to say anyway. It wasn't long before Mick started looking forward to waking up and heading to the circus just to see Daniel and watch the jugglers. He liked being there at the circus a lot more than he liked staying on the farm, especially when his mom went in to work and left him alone with his father. 

The time he spent at the circus was really the only time Mick had to breathe, where he could get away from his mother's incessant nagging and his father's...Well, everything he did. He didn't worry too much about the farm animals. One of the neighboring farms would probably jump in to take care of them. They were nosy bastards that way. Besides, it wasn't like the circus would stay in town much longer anyway. Mick just wanted to enjoy the little parts of it that he liked while he could, even if it was just a few hours at a time. 

But around the seventh or eighth week, Daniel started getting a little annoying. It started that night Mick had stayed over a bit too long. The sky was already pitch black, save for a few bright, silver stars polka dotting the horizon. Thick shadows swarmed the tent from outside like moths. Mick and Daniel were inside the tent, as Daniel was cleaning the staffs he and the other jugglers used for their act and organizing all the flammable supplies. Mick watched him from where he was laying back on the bleachers a few feet away. He was rolling his dad's lighter (his mom had tried hiding it in the top drawer of her dresser, but Mick had easily found it and taken it again) in his hands, wondering if he should turn it on or not. Probably not, he thought. Naturally, he did it anyway. 

Mick turned the thing on and off a few times, watching the little flame pop up as if it were trying to play a game of peak-a-boo. For a second he was completely enthralled. He might have stared at the fire for hours, except Daniel suddenly spoke up, startling him slightly. "You know, if you keep holding that thing so close to you you're gonna catch your shirt on fire." He came over, standing over him, one of the fire juggling sticks hanging from his fist as he folded his arm over his bare chest. "And believe me that's no fun." 

Mick smirked, slamming the lighter shut on the flame. "Oh, is that why you never wear a shirt? You burned  them all?" 

Daniel rolled his eyes, but Mick could see a grin forming on his lips too. The expression warranted a sharp sting in Mick's chest, forcing him to sit up right. "Not on purpose, but yeah," Daniel said. When the older boy took a seat next to him, the sting spread out like a wild fire, and Mick almost jumped to his feet in surprise. That had been happening a lot in the past few weeks they'd been hanging out. Mick tried to ignore it, because he wasn't really sure what it was. He wasn't sure if he wanted to find out. 

It was kind of hard to think straight with Daniel sitting right beside him. Something about the fact that the guy never wore a shirt was very distracting. His abs were always painfully noticeable. Mick shifted, shoving the lighter in the pocket of his sweatshirt. He forced himself to look away from the older boy's upper body, glancing at the ground and his bare feet instead. "Did you burn all your shoes, too?"  

Daniel turned his head to stare at his feet, wiggling his toes. "Nah, I just think that shoes are for suckers." 

Mick snorted. Then, he realized he was wearing shoes, and the older boy had just insulted him. "Hey!" Daniel leaned forward, hugging his sides as he was thrown into a fit of laughter. Mick took his shoe off and threw it at him. Daniel ducked before it could hit him though, which Mick found slightly disappointing. 

Daniel made a face at him that caused another stinging sensation to run through Mick's body. "That was rude! Didn't your mother teach you manners?" 

Mick shrugged, grinning back at him. "She tried. I ignored her." 

Daniel grunted with amusement. "Why am I not surprised?" The too broke out into a long, drawn out laughter. When it died down, though, Daniel titled his head, giving Mick a side ways frown. "Hey, don't you have to get back?" 

"Uh..." Mick froze, glancing at the clock that was set on one of the crates. Normally, he would have gone home at eight. That usually gave him enough leeway to sneak around the back of the house and climb up to his room via the windows' ledges. It was the best, and only, way he knew how to avoid using the front door and accidently crossing paths with his father. But now it was almost eleven, and Mick wasn't very confidant about climbing the window sills in the dark. "Yeah. Or.." 

He got to his feet, grabbing the fire stick Daniel had been cleaning, swinging it around a little. "I could run away and join the circus, too."

Daniel leaned back on the bleachers, propping himself up on his elbows and crossing his feet in front of him. He didn't look very impressed by Mick's lack of juggling skills.  "Very funny." Except he wasn't laughing. "Go home, Mick." 

"No, really," Mick went on. "We could be a dynamic duo or whatever. You know, scare the elephants with rats. Attack the clowns with water balloons. Replace the knife throwers knives with plastic."

He trailed off, lowering the fire stick, as he met Daniel's gaze. He wished he hadn't. Daniel was staring back at him with an expression Mick had never seen before. It was a mixture between the stone cold glare Mick's father got before he...got up from his chair and that soft, gentle knit of the eyebrows his mom had whenever she thought she needed to worry about Mick, with an undertone of his usual, cocky I-know-everything-and-you-know-nothing glint. "Why don't you want to go home?"

 His voice was a bit off too. Mick didn't like it. He shrugged, feeling a little dumb under the older boy's stare. Daniel eyed him up and down for a moment, clearly not satisfied by that response.  Mick scolded himself when he realized he was squirming a bit. There was an odd sensation in his gut, but not the one that he usually got whenever he was looking into Daniel's eyes. There was something about the way he was looking at him, like he thought Mick was hiding something. "What?" Mick snapped. 

Slowly, Daniel got to his feet and approached Mick the same way one might sneak up on a scared animal. He didn't like that either. "Why don't you want to go home?" Daniel repeated. Something about his expression was very off putting. It wasn't the same look other people gave him. He wasn't judging him or questioning his sanity the way adults liked too. It was just...odd. Mick was having a hard time putting a name to the expression or pin pointing why it made his insides feel like they were crawling up his throat. 

"Who said I didn't want to go home?" He added the fact that he didn't want to tell Daniel why home wasn't an option at the moment to the list of things he couldn't quite explain. There wasn't really any reason to hesitate, was there? Nothing that went on in the Rory house was any different from any other household, right? But for some reason Daniel's expression was making him reconsider that thought. Even so, there was an undying need to defend it. Like if he found out what was going on something bad might happen. 

Daniel just kept staring at him with that unnamed expression. "You just suggested running away to the circus."

"I was joking," Mick said. He tossed the fire stick at Daniel's head, but the older boy caught it easily thanks to his training as a juggler. (Mick found that both cool and slightly irritating.) 

"If it was a joke, then why are your hands shaking?" Daniel pointed down, and Mick followed his finger. He winced when he realized he was right. His hands were trembling just the slightest bit. Mick cursed himself for that, shoving his hands in the pocket of his jacket. 

"They're not." Mick found himself lying, even though they'd both just seen them. Daniel narrowed his eyes, obviously not falling for it. Mick couldn't stand it anymore. "Quit looking at me like that!" 

Daniel ignored him, choosing to bombard him with questions instead. "What happens when you go home? Who's waiting there? Mom? Dad? Siblings? What do they do?" 

Under normal circumstances they probably would have been innocent questions that Mick would only sort of mind answering. But the way Daniel was asking them with such rapid fire and that damn look he'd been giving him...It just scream: danger! "Why are you suddenly so curious?" Mick asked. 

"Because," Daniel said loudly, "you're suddenly acting like it's not safe!"  

Mick stared at him. "Why wouldn't it be safe?" 

Daniel shrugged. "You tell me." 

He rolled his eyes. "It's as safe as any other house." Daniel looked like he wanted to say more on the matter, but Mick left before he had the chance. He just wanted to get out of that tent, away from that look he still couldn't place... 


	10. Finding Solace pt 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a great deal of time since I've updated. So... In case any of you have forgotten what's happened before, here's a brief recap:
> 
> Allison got a job working at CC Jitters only to get fired a few weeks later and go off on a drinking tangent. Meanwhile, Mick snuck out to the circus to see the fire juggles and met new friend Daniel. After staying out a bit too late, Mick hesitated to go home, which worries Daniel. Though Mick eventually decided to go home anyway.

Mick hesitated at the front door. After checking the drive way, he saw that his mother still wasn't home from work even though it was probably nearing midnight now.

(It was odd that a coffee shop would stay open so late, but he hadn't questioned it before.) So, if anything happened his mom wouldn't be there to stop it. (Because Mick never could even when he did get brave enough to try.) 

He'd gone around back to sneak up to his bedroom, but, like he'd thought, it was much too dark to climb without losing a foothold. 

Mick considered going to sleep in the barn or even just snoozing on the front porch until his mom came home, but the barn was gross and it was extremely cold outside. 

(Mick had never been able to stand the cold for very long.) He could have used the side entrance that lead into the kitchen, but he'd still have to cross through the living room to get to the stairs. 

Mick sighed, his stomach twisting into knots, though unlike the knots that formed when he was with Daniel, these ones were very unpleasant. As if his guts were trying to murder him. 

The idea of walking through the door made him feel physically sick, but there really wasn’t any other options at this point. 

He paced back and forth for a few minutes, trying to steal himself for whatever came next. (Because really anything could happen.) “Okay,” Mick breathed out heavily. “Okay.” 

He wrapped his fingers around the knob, and it irritated him how badly his hand was shaking. 

Taking a deep breath, Mick pushed the door open, grimacing a little when he creaked loudly on its hinges. 

His head snapped to the corner where his dad’s chair sat. His old man was slumped over the side of the arm rest like a bag of sand, beer bottle still clutched in one hand. Mick slowly let out a relieved breath. 

Dick was asleep. As long as he didn’t wake up, everything would be fine... 

Mick let out a quiet, shaky breath, setting his sights on the stairs across the room, moving to close the door behind him. 

He cringed again as the hinges let out a hideous squeak that was ear piercing in the dead silence. 

Quickly, Mick whirled around to make sure he hadn’t woken Dick on accident. The light snoring told him he was still safe. 

Mick locked his jaw tightly. He crept forward, moving as quickly as he dared and as quietly as he could manage with the floorboards creaking underneath his feet. 

The noise made him grimace, his shoulders stiffening, chest becoming tight as he held his breath. 

Sweat had began forming on his forehead, dripping down his face slowly; but he didn’t bother wiping it off, not even when it got in his eyes. 

Every few steps Mick would glance back at the chair, making sure Dick stayed in his slumbering state. Why did the stairs have to be so far away from the door? 

Mick took another step, only to jump back yelping in surprise as a hideous howl sounded from under his foot. 

The dog fled from the room a moment later, whimpering from where Mick had accidentally stepped on his tail. 

Mick winced and turned his head slightly to check the chair, his heart dropping to the pit of his stomach. Dick was gone. 

Frantically, he scanned the room to see where he’d gone. He wasn’t searching long. 

A moment later a heavy force slammed into his gut, knocking the air from his lungs and causing him to topple over onto the floor. 

Mick groaned, shaking involuntarily and gritting his teeth. His gut was on fire, a sensation he’d unfortunately become all too familiar with – he’d just been punched in the stomach. 

It was still dark, but he could sort of make out Dick's silhouette among the shadows as he loomed over him. Somehow the stupid bastard seemed even more menacing at night. 

The star light seeped through the windows, casting dark shadows over his unshaven face. A demonic sort of look formed in his eyes. It was something Mick had seen before, every time he got stuck in one of those stupid flash backs. 

But in the dark it was worse. He was absolutely murderous, and Mick couldn’t stop himself from thinking, Well, I’m dead. 

Dick's hands came up, and Mick flinched in spite of himself. Suddenly, he was being lifted off the ground; his feet were dangling in the air. 

His shirt was twisted between Dick's massive fists, his crooked teeth snarling at him like a rabid dog's. “Well, well, well, look what we have here. A spy.” 

Mick’s heart was hammering away in his chest, his eyes widening. Dick was speaking in that low, raspy drawl he always used right before… 

He kicked out with his feet, trying to squirm his way out of his grasp, but he didn’t hit anything and Dick was clutching his shirt so tightly the collar was choking him a little. 

“Thought you could come in here and gain intel, huh? Learn all our secrets?” He laughed darkly, narrowing his eyes the slightest bit. “Too bad, darlin' cause you ain’t gettin' nothin'!” 

Mick squirmed, but it was no use. He yelped as he went soaring across the room, slamming face first into the tv and knocking it off the stand. 

Wincing in pain, Mick tried to get off the stand, but before he could even move to sit up Dick was on him again. 

The movement made him dizzy, and he hardly had any time to process what was happening before Dick had his boulder sized hands wrapped around Mick's throat. 

Instantly, his air supply was cut off; he couldn’t breath, the tv stand digging into his back painfully. Mick tried pushing him off, but Dick was a lot heavier than he was. 

His vision blurred slightly, and he panicked. He was sure that he was a goner this time. He was definitely going to die. This lunatic was going to kill him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I didn't reply to the comments from before, but I have read them and I really appreciate them. I hope you continue to read and enjoy despite the unexpectedly long hiatus 
> 
> That's all for now, toodles! 
> 
> ~ Elsie


	11. Life Line pt 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am...the worst at updating, I know. I hope this is worth the wait though!
> 
> I know these chapters are fairly short, so I'm sorry if you prefer longer chapters. It's just easier to write shorter chapters for this one, like, emotionally or whatever.

Allison had been going to the bar for quite some time, now. She'd lost count of the exact number of days. Had it been a week? A month? It was all fuzzy in her head.

Not that it mattered in the long run anyway. Allison preferred her head to be fuzzy these days. She preferred not to think, not to feel.

When she was drunk, her mind was cut off from the reality of her life; she didn't have to dwell on whether or not Dick was having a good day. She didn't have to feel guilty about lying to her son and husband.

The people at the bar didn't ask too many questions either. Allison was free to come in, drink as much as she wanted, and not get judged for it. Everyone else was doing it too, so they couldn't judge even if they wanted to.

Then, one day the bar tender decided it would be a good idea to butt into her business.

Nadia placed down Allison's drink in front of her with a look of mild disapproval, but Allison just rolled her eyes and brushed it off, beginning to nurse the drink.

It was only her third drink of the night; normally she could down even more -- at least fifteen drinks a night. She didn't need judgmental looks from someone like her.

"What?" Allison snapped when the bar tender's look didn't ease up even after several minutes.

She got an odd feeling in the pit of her stomach, and she found herself hoping that the other woman wasn't getting an infatuation with her. That was the last thing she needed in her life right now.

Nadia stayed quiet for a moment, giving her a small shrug of the shoulders. Her pink bangs bounced a bit, her muscler arms clenching slightly as she moved to wipe down the counter with a rag.

"I get a lot of people in here," she said. "In and out all night long. Some of them just want to have fun, a few are looking to get laid. But most of them are trying to drown something, feelings, money problems, some sort of domestic issue..."

Allison glared at her harshly, but the other woman didn't waver, not even an inch. In fact, she seemed to want this reaction from the smaller woman. "I don't have any problems, if that's what you're saying!"

Nadia snorted. She paused with her cleaning for a moment, folding her arms over herself firmly, and Allison found it a little irksome how smug she looked. "Sure you don't."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Allison snapped, taking an abrupt sip from her drink, turning her side to the bar tender, hoping that the message fuck off would sink in. It didn't.

"Everyone has problems, little girly," Nadia said knowingly. "And they don't go away just because you get wasted at the first bar you come across...not that I'm complaining about the business but..."

She shrugged again, going back to wiping at the counter.

Allison scoffed. What was wrong with this woman that she thought she could just pry her way into her life? "What the hell do you know?"

Nadia shrugged once more. She walked off for a moment to tend to some other costumer. Allison was naive enough to believe that was the end of it, but of course she returned again once she was finished getting the other person's drink.

Nadia leaned against the counter, looking Allison directly in the eyes, and Allison found herself leaning away from her in discomfort. She was such an abnormal woman. Allison didn't need that rubbing off on her.

But Nadia didn't seem to realize that, either that or she didn't care. She kept her position, staring intently back at the smaller brunette woman.

"I know enough to realize that no amount of booze can kill your sorrows. But they sure as hell do sink, and when they do they'll drag you down too. You'll go under. And when that happens, you'll be the only thing that's drowning in that bottle."

Allison supposed she was trying to be deep or profound, but all she felt from that speech was rage. Red, hot, flaming rage. "Who the hell do you think you are that you can just tell me what to do with my life?"

For a moment, Nadia looked completely baffled, as if Allison was completely out of line. "I'm not telling you what to do. You think you're so special that this speech is exclusive to you? This thing is pretty much practiced. I give it to all the sorry saps who come in here."

"You just want to tell me what to do just like everyone else," Allison huffed, not even really listening to a word she'd just said. She didn't care. This woman didn't matter. She wasn't important. She had no right to butt into her business!

"I'm really not --"

"You'd rather I just sit at home all day taking care of everyone else," Allison went on, really just needing a good vent now. "That's all I ever do. Just do, do, do for everyone else. Well, I'm tired of it. No one ever does anything for me! Why should I sit around at home when I'm miserable there? When my child is an ungrateful brat and my husband is in all but a useless vegetative state?"

Nadia took a step back, eyeing her with this odd expression, the same way one might regard a child throwing a tantrum.

Something about that look peeved Allison off even more. As if she was completely out of line, like he problems didn't matter.

"I have a right to take care of myself too, you know! I deserve a life too! It's not always about them! I deserve things to make me happy! So, if I want a few drinks then I'm going to have a few drinks, everyone else be damned! They don't care about my well being anyways."

Nadia nodded slowly, but Allison wasn't quite finished yet. So, she went on, slamming her drink down on the counter, ruining the work Nadia had just done. (The woman didn't have any respect for her, so why should Allison show her any?)

"I'm so sick of everyone butting into my business and telling me what to do, like they know what's best. Like they know what I need. I don't need to take care of them! I don't need to do anything! This is my life, I should be able to live it how I want, but no. People just think they know everything!

"They should be taking care of themselves, anyways! I mean, god damn it, Mick is thirteen for fuck's sake, but he can't do anything for himself. You'd think he was a god damn three year old! And Dick..."

Allison let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head angrily. For a moment her rage bubbled so far over that she forgot how to form proper words, and all she could do was wring her hands into tight fists. "He's just wasting space."

She took a deep breath, shaking with anger now, Nadia just watching and listening to her rant. "I just need...everyone to stop telling me what to do. It's not my job to take care of them! I'm tired of slaving away for ungrateful little shits. I just need to get away from it all, okay? So, don't tell me what to do with my god damn life! I don't need some dyke telling me what to do!"

Allison stood up roughly, shaking the bar as she did so. A few people around her let out a couple of collective gasps, but Nadia didn't budge at all. (She probably, rightfully, got comments like that all the time.)

Something about the calmness in her stance pissed Allison off even more. Part of her wanted to punch the bigger woman's light's out.

For butting into her life. For being a rude ass bitch. For being an abomination. Anything really.

But Allison thought better of it, when she remembered she had no idea how to throw a punch. So, instead she stormed off towards the exit. "I'm finding another bar!"

On the way out, she pushed a decorative vase down from the table it'd been resting on; it shattered upon impact with the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, if you couldn't tell, Allison is developing a bit of a Narcissistic Personality Disorder. So, because of that she's going to have a lot of...tantrums that could be triggering to some readers, so please be aware of that.
> 
> Please feel free to let me know thoughts in the comments!


End file.
